Saturday morning car tunes.

I'm not the only one who sees them
I'm not the only one they keep up at night
I'm not the only one not sleeping
I'm not the only one who's dreaming out loud
Dreaming out

Caleb was by this morning already, bringing fresh croissants and good news and his car! for me to use! He is leaving town for a couple of weeks, planning to return before school begins and more importantly, before Ruth's eleventh birthday.

Don't presume that my choice to keep him close has anything to do with Lochlan or Ben. This is not like that. This is a whole different thing and it could be called coercion or extortion or something but I like to just minimize that and make everybody happy and also it makes missing Cole less prevalent somehow in that he's right here, half the time.

(If I could get August to wear more flannel and spend less time tying his hair back I could have Jake too in some regard but whatever! Let's not go there! It's a beautiful Saturday and Ben is off for the weekend but having worked almost around the clock for the past twelve days straight somehow I see him sleeping all day long, possibly opening an eye around two or three o'clock to swallow a hamburger whole and going right back to sleep.)

I don't know why I'm explaining things to you anyway. Drama comes and drama goes and we keep it to a low simmer and we're incredibly refined. Trust me. In a perfectly-tousled hair and bright eyes kind of way. With money now. So our problems apparently are your reality television show.

Caleb is heading east to attend a few meetings in Toronto and then he'll stop in Montreal to see (ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH) Sophie, and then he'll continue on to Nova Scotia to spend a week with his folks. I sent along my best from us even though I talk to them regularly. I was invited to go, seeing as how Pepper Potts may be making a return appearance and if anyone needs an assistant, it is Satan by far, but I declined because um, no. No trips with him. I don't what the fuck he is thinking. Yes, dear, stay in my life so we all don't go down in flames forever but no, I'm not going on vacations with you.

If push comes to shove I can make things miserable for him too. One of the small comforts of being tortured for so long by the same person is that eventually you discover the little things that drive them mad and you can use them as weapons. It keeps the devil at arms length. And it keeps Bridget safe.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go whisper disgusting things involving Krispy Kreme donuts into my husband's ear and maybe he'll get up and take me out for a second breakfast. He can drive.

In stitches here tonight
We are ripping the seams out
I'm pushing hard to tear it loose
In stitches here tonight
We are ripping the seams
There's something missing
Chilled and lonely in between

Today's musical accompaniment can be found here. Enjoy.

Beauty, undismayed.

Anything to make you smile
You are the ever-living ghost of what once was
I never want to hear you say
That you'd be better off
Or you liked it that way
But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do
No one's gonna love you more than I do

He is still drunk and I'm losing patience.

Amazing how someone can be so perfect and then within a half a bottle he is all mess. I am sitting on the steps again and Lochlan is sitting, rather, laying in the chair, his legs splayed out because there isn't a cooperative muscle in his body right now, including his tongue.

He has Band of Horses on repeat and I want to hasten my hearing loss to the point of total silence because it hurts to listen to him humming no one's going to love you more than I do.

It hurts because I have stuck to my guns with the stubbornness of a child but when I look in the mirror I see a little old woman who has been to hell and back so many times she has an elevator named after her.

He still sees that child, and we still carry the burden of our history like a cross, dead weight keeping us from the future. He is horrified by what I have been through but powerless to change it, so he folds himself inward and he continues on his button-down perfectionist way, with clean, unsmudged glasses and his strawberry blonde beard that I have loved since forever that he never shaves off anymore because he sees my protests when the others do and he wants the upper hand. He gives others the shit jobs of giving me bad news and dealing with the less good parts because he didn't want me to project my feelings onto him and it backfired, oh, hell did it ever backfire on him.

So now to make himself look even better in everyone's eyes he's going to spend the weekend lit up like the fourth of July, which goes against his whole better-than-you stance to Ben, but at the same time Lochlan can turn his alcoholism on and off at will. Ben cannot so it's just another thumb of Lochlan's nose.

And in return Ben points out every chance he gets that I married him, that I am his wife, and I made my choice.

But did she?

Lochlan lets the question slide out of his mouth as a challenge and Ben is forced to drop it based on the fact that he was biggest proponent of this new joint venture. Since Bridget doesn't have security anymore, give her whatever she needs so if that means being able to go to anyone she wants for comfort, affection, advice or straight-up hardcore sex then let's do this thing.

Like any red-blooded man, Ben agreed to that. He thought, well, everyone thought that I would marry Lochlan next. That I would just go back to him and Ben figured if he still had access to me that some is always better than nothing at all.

And whoops, I married Ben instead so all of the sudden the roles are reversed and to Lochlan some of me is better than none at all and Ben is all she picked me! Shut this down! Because all of the sudden instead of getting a piece of the action you are loaning out your wife and hoping she comes back to you with her loyalties intact, knowing it's a risk, just like getting out of bed in the morning. He has struggled with that. I have too. I thought they were all insane and that this was the worst idea ever. I thought how dare they objectify me like this, how dare they turn me into a time share, a possession to be fought over.

Then I got over myself. And you should too.

Lose your uptightedness and be free. The world needs more love. The world also needs more vodka but I am almost out.

Thankfully.

I am off to spend some much needed alone-time with Ben. I have not seen him much today.

Goodnight, Lochlan.

Goodnight, Bridgie. Who was it who said "Remembering is only a new form of suffering"?

Baudelaire, Lochlan.

Oh yeah, Baudelaire. I should have known.

Yeah, you should have.

Cake.

Yesterday was more of the same. I careened from one appointment to the next. I had to squint hard to drive. I kept falling asleep on my feet. I think I have the flu. The crushing exhaustion is back even though I am mostly sleeping, it's just not enough.

Like everything, nothing is ever enough. For the boys, for me.

I am making a concentrated effort to be happy. Just because. Because anything else is a waste of time and energy and detrimental to my health. And mental to my detri, ruinous and miserable.

And as much as I love the image of standing in a puddle of dark water with my black umbrella and my black dress, soaked to the skin in my own agony, stitched to a dark cloud with threads of hate and jealousy and rage and grief it's as tiring as your endless fake chippery and enthusiasm, self-improvement and utter perfection.

Maybe I can just sit somewhere in the middle. Perched on the line burning one shoulder in the sun while the other freezes in the dark and everything will be okay. Because I don't do fake-chipper any better than you do deadly darkly honest.

So Caleb stays in the picture.

So does Lochlan for that matter. That's what I need. It's what I would like. The smart thing to do would have been to leave well enough alone but I didn't then and now I can't. And for all the circles we travel in falling out and then falling back in they are constants in a life that seems to delight in ripping the rug out from under me and I told myself after Jacob flew that I would not deny anyone anything any more than I would want any small comfort denied me.

I went to each and every man after Jacob. Each one. All of them. I tried on life with them if only for the familiar, if only I could find that feeling where it didn't hurt all the damned time and Ben and I made a grand and stupid effort to seduce each other and it surprised me. HE surprised me. For all of his fucktardery and foolishness he has a heart of gold and it's in piss-poor shape, just like mine but it's there and it's soft and it's full for me and he comes first. Understand?

First.

Every last time.

I will stand behind his back with my head down and listen to his instructions and follow them carefully whether I want to or not most times. Then I will step ahead and I will soften the blows of history so it is easier for him to live in close existence to the objects of his derision but I can't make them go away because I'm selfish.

I apologize for that but he won't accept it. We keep trying on lives and testing out ideas and we always come back to this because this works, pure and simple and sometimes self-preservation means squeezing your eyes tightly shut and pretending you don't see things if you can't stand to watch. And admitting that you like it if you do.

Sometimes it means living the life of someone you don't recognize in the mirror. I wish the introductions would be made. I feel like I don't know how to act around her, I don't know where to sit or what to say. She judges me. You all judge me.

I still face her. I still face YOU, even though I owe you nothing at all.

And I know my choices aren't always right but they're mine, and I'll take responsibility for them.

Shove.

(what did I do about the envelopes? Nothing. And everyone is happy.)

She's all that I see
and all that I breathe
Take a breath and hold her in
as the shadows whispering

Last night around ten, we heard the car. Or rather, they heard the car. I didn't hear a damned thing until the doorbell chimed. Ben, August, Lochlan, Schuyler, Daniel and Sam all looked at each other and then they looked at me.

I stood up to answer the door. They didn't move.

There's Satan. Melting the paint off my front door. It's still a thousand degrees outside and he's in a suit. He's holding one of those fucking grey envelopes and I want to stab him with it. I'll watch him die like I watched his brother die and call it a day on this family.

He looks past me at the six men sitting in the kitchen and asks me if I will join him outside.

Chickenshit. I hear Schuyler say it but it's ignored and I pull the door shut behind me. Ben was standing up just as I met his eyes and then he disappeared from my view.

I sat down on the front step and Caleb seemed surprised. There are two chairs and a table there and I picked the steps. He sat down beside me and I put my head down on my knees. He put his hand on my back. I could feel the imprint of his fingers burning through cloth and then flesh, leaving his prints on bone but I didn't move.

How long are you going to continue with this game? I miss you. I miss having you to look forward to. I miss you lighting up my home with your laugh and with the music you always play.

I looked at him. Curious. Then I started laughing. I couldn't help it. I laughed until my sides hurt and tears were pouring down my face. And then I stopped abruptly, wiped my face with my hands and put my head back down, away from him this time.

You sound like a desperate man.

Maybe I am.

There it was. That hint of fallibility designed exclusively to unsettle me, leaving me vulnerable to his charm. And still I played along by not playing along.

You're lonely.

Yes. I've been lucky to have you back in my life.

That isn't going to change, Caleb.

He stopped moving and held his breath and then spoke carefully next.

I mean in a greater capacity than coparenting.

Look, I'm overruling all of you, this moratorium is done.

What?

I need to get the others.

Why?

So I don't have to repeat myself. That's all I ever do.

Bridg-

Be right back.

But I never went back outside. I came in and six pairs of eyes were on me and my heart was thudding so loud it was making me sick and I just nodded and said I was sorry and I went upstairs and crawled into bed fully clothed and I slept. I slept so hard I don't even know if Ben ever came to bed or if Caleb ever left because I got up late, took the kids to the pool and made a concentrated effort to make sense of whatever it is I think I just did. I just need the fighting to stop. I can handle pretty much anything, but I can't handle being the rope in a human tug of war anymore.

Just. Just fucking get along.

Mood kitchen.

I can just see my 'mood' kitchen. You know, the blinds come down, the lights all go out and angry death metal starts chugging so loud you forget what language you speak and then a burned piece of toast throws itself out of the toaster and upon my mercy.

That's Bridget's mood kitchen.

A child among the dead.

I'm coming up only to hold you under
I'm coming up only to show you wrong
And to know you is hard, we wonder
To know you all wrong, we were.

Down, down, down. Calling him. Screaming his name as I slip and stumble down the steps, round the corner and pick up speed racing down the hallway in the dark.

JAKE! JACOB, PLEASE!!!!

I grab the handle and almost pull my arms off since I was halfway past it and I'm yanked to a violent halt. I turn it, breaking the rusted seal, my shoulders aching from the effort and finally it begins to move. The door takes an eternity to open. Forever. Tears are streaming down my face and I squeeze through into the light and fall to the floor underneath the half-open door and I'm sobbing and I see Cole first since he is on the ceiling and I reach up to grab the door and it moves quicker than I can suddenly and I hear the ringing before the heavy iron connects with the side of my skull. Lights out.

When I open my eyes I am still on the floor and Jacob's face is looking into mine. Cole is on the ground now too, slightly removed from us but still very much touchable from here. Concerned. As he should be. Thanks to my years with him I've discovered it's very incredibly easy to knock myself out now. You would know that, it's a feature of hockey players and battered wives.

What's happened?

I don't know what to do. He won't stop.

Ben? (Cole says it with a smirk. Just rewards for breaking his heart.)

Your brother.

The smirk disappears. Jake frowns too.

What did he do?

He keeps asking for me. Every single day. He won't stop.

Ben won't let him near you?

No.

Good. But I don't like his reaction.

Did he pay you?

I don't think I know how to fix this, princess.

Did he pay you, Jacob?

This is a job for the living.

Cole howls with laughter. Sarcasm disguised as mirth.

DID HE PAY YOU?

Jacob stands up and pulls me to my feet. I'm dizzy but I don't care. He walks away until the shadows close around him and I can't see him anymore.

You son of a bitch. You left for money.

I DIDN'T LEAVE FOR MONEY, BRIDGET! I DIDN'T TAKE THE MONEY!

Then why did you leave me!

I can't talk about this anymore.

What else do you have to do, Jake? You have plans? What the fuck? Talk to me! Come back here so I can see you!

But he doesn't. Instead Cole walks into the light, right past me, to the door and he looks out into the hall and he turns back and considers his thoughts for a moment. His face is perfectly lined, his hair glossy-bright chocolate in the light. I never get used to seeing him without his glasses and I wonder if when I die I'll be able to hear everything again.

You should go back now, Bridget.

I don't know what to do about Caleb though.

You shouldn't have let him back into your life, baby. You don't know how HARD I worked to keep him out of it. And you just let him right back in the second I was gone. None of them stand a chance. He'll ruin everyone and everything to get to you, don't you GET THAT?

He is screaming at me and I haven't flinched yet. There is no fear in heaven I guess. Oh, please, please let me be dead, this is so lovely.

Are you going to help me or not?

There's nothing I can do.

There has to be some way to end this.

Sure there is, baby and you know what it is.

I do?

Death.

I have to kill him?

Let me put it to you this way. There are two ways to get Caleb out of your life. One way is for him to die. The other is for you to.

Jesus, Cole, stop it.

Hey, I tried to kill you to save you from him.

I hope you rot down here.

I'll bring the golden boy with me into that adventure, baby. See you soon.

Fuck you.

He leered in close and I could see the empty black holes inside of those glorious dark blue eyes and I finally felt a shiver of dread. It was gone before I could use it up and wish for more.

That will be the first order of business when you get here. For old times' sake.

All around me the unholy squeals and yells of protest began again and the wind picked up and the chaos began. Everything was moving and screaming and I put my hands up over my ears and I closed my eyes and I knelt down on the cold stone floor and tucked my arms up around my head and I waited. I could feel movement in the air all around me but I waited, still and quiet and finally when there was no more noise I brought my arms down and I opened my eyes.

Nothing.

Jake?

No answer.

Cole?

Nothing. I look up and the door is wide open.

I took the clue and I went through it and I ran, just as fast as I did to get down there. Back down the hallway into the light then plunged into the dark again and then I grabbed the railing for the staircase and hit the first step and bounced off Satan, who was sitting there with his head in his hands. Waiting. Maybe sleeping. I hit the ground, landing hard on my back and I pulled myself back up and stood before him but he didn't move. He didn't acknowledge me and I waited and I did not run even though every nerve in my body was on fire to flee. I just stood there with my arms down at my sides, hands clenched into shaking fists, expressionless for all of my terrified curiosity.

Finally he stood up. We are seven inches apart.

I'm breathing through my nose and my air is his exhalation. My entire body is wound tight, like the strings on Ben's guitar. This is the very last place I ever want to be with Caleb. He doesn't deserve to get the chance to talk to his brother or be in the presence of my Jacob. He doesn't get the comfort. He isn't allowed here in my head. Ever ever ever. Go away Caleb. I don't want you here. And still I did nothing.

You don't have to be afraid of me, Bridget.

He whispers it as his arms come up and I go into them.

We've had some amazing experiences together. Haven't we?

I am silent. I do absolutely nothing except hold on to him, my arms tight around his neck. I've gotten good at going somewhere else and that's why he shouldn't be here. This is not his place, this is my safe place. Go away. Go away. Go away.

You don't have to be afraid of me.

He repeats himself and this time he sounds different. I pull away to look at him and he is twenty years old again and I am suddenly screaming like I did the night when I was twelve.

But Lochlan didn't save me then and he's not going to save me tonight. I have to do everything myself.

Beyond the Sea.

I know beyond a doubt
My heart will lead me there soon
We'll meet, I know, we'll meet beyond the shore
We'll kiss just as before
And happy we will be beyond the sea
And never again I'll go sailing

Another night, another envelope, this one held back like a starting pitch and flung far and fast off the cliff, Ben staggering back slightly from the momentum. I figured the envelope would land ten feet away on the rocks but he cut it just right. I'm sure it's now wedged between the bronze plaques, exactly where Ben would like to nail Caleb to the rocks. At low tide, no less.

He walked back up the path, up the stairs and onto the verandah and he picked up the needle and put it back at the beginning of the Frank Sinatra record we have on rotation these days. Sometimes late at night we put it on and we dance, but only for a few moments. Invariably Ben will stop, tears at the corners of his eyes, his face completely overwhelmed and he'll kiss the top of my head and then take my hand and pull me inside. The time for dancing is finished.

I have gotten under his skin, permeated his tough shell and broken down the wall of ego he wears as his armor into battle. God forbid he lets me see it ever but sometimes a little bit shines through, like when we dance.

And when he sleeps, for he has finally taken to clutching me against him like a favorite doll, the way I like to be held when I sleep. Absolute safety. No question, no falling, no nightmares. Something he resisted, always pushing me away. Too hot. Gotta sleep now he would protest. I would fall asleep with my lip sticking out a mile wide, pouting into my dreams, tripping over my selfishness.

Things are shifting between us, and it's for the better. Maybe it's the united front. Maybe it's that the tests have been handed out and I have passed and I didn't need to study. They were easy ones. Thirty years of history versus the most difficult human being I have ever encountered in my existence? Natch. The threat of certain ruin and the loss of everything I hold dear versus this giant alcoholic with anger management issues and a motorcycle that is louder than thunder? Anytime. Violent, desperate love from someone with absolutely no experience in love at all?

Got him right here. Not giving him up so stop waiting.

He's the jigsaw man, after all.

The silence from the other side of the city is deafening. The envelopes keep coming as if Caleb is trying to will me to him formally, telekinetically.

That's been done already. Find a new trick, asshole. Bet yet, just stop.

Confetti nightmares.

(The fortune teller saw this in a past life. To a tee. I should have believed her but I didn't because after she told me everything Lochlan appeared, put his arm around my neck and pulled me away, telling me not to listen to the crazy old woman. He said she works for Wegmans when she's not with the show and doesn't know how to spell the future, let alone see it. He laughed and that was the end of that.)

As the breeze blew in against the cliff, I watched a million shreds of silver paper flutter into the sea.

Three evenings, three envelopes and tonight Ben has resorted to sitting on the verandah waiting for the devil in the flesh. You see, last night the devil didn't appear, instead sending John with the car, thinking that if I were to travel with Lochlan I might be more inclined to show up at all.

He would be wrong.

I ran out to the car in my bare feet in the dark after staring at it through the window for the better part of an hour and I told John to go home, that I wasn't going in town, that he shouldn't come back and yet another envelope was delivered tonight around six by a city courier company, wedged in the front gate, insistent on a hand delivery that failed because I refused. John will be here later. Like clockwork. Or maybe Caleb himself will come back because this behavior is unusual. This is what Ben would like to see, anyway.

We refuse because I know what Caleb is doing. He doesn't want Ben there, he wants to punish me for venturing too close to the truth and he wants to punish Lochlan for breathing, by making him watch. Caleb's a sick fuck like that, and he's got an axe to grind that has nothing to do with Ben. (I guess that changes too, now). Oddly enough, Caleb quite enjoys Ben, they get along well.

They get along well but Ben is tired of the fear and tired of the sickness and sober enough (thank you very much) to see the wearing and tearing on his princess. He doesn't care about the past. He cares about the present and he cares about our future and neither of those things is going to be sent three steps back and then stumbled over the low railing into the fires of hell. Not on his watch, not anymore. What he considers to be Lochlan's hold is over. Been there, done that, have a t-shirt and a lifetime of psychological scars to prove it. Maybe Jake's methods of barring the door were of the best intentions until Lochlan and then Caleb somehow got to him (I still don't know if that's true). Maybe it will work better for Ben. Ben can't be bought. He only has three weaknesses. Bridget, sex and mind-altering substances so really, how can his plan go wrong?

So he stood on the porch in his jeans and his bare feet (something new) and a black tank top and he tore those envelopes up into little pieces and they're everywhere, scattered all over the front lawn, in the trees, in the grapevines far out by the cliffs and all over the porch. I imagine the wind will take what's left away overnight.

I wonder if I'll still be alive to check.

You see, when push comes to shove here, my knights go into Protect Bridget mode. That's where we are right now. I am the singular focus of everyone in the house and it's an odd and uncomfortable position. One that cricks my neck and makes my knees ache. Hiding behind Ben, sitting cross-legged on the porch as he sits on the top step, my hands gripping the back of his shirt, my head down, pressed against his back, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer in some sort of ultimate sick joke because God does not have the power to save me from Satan and neither does Ben.

No worries, little bee. He can't have you. None of them can. You're mine now. Mine.

I just squeezed my eyes together a little tighter and resumed my prayers to the fallen angels in my concrete room. They will protect Ben for me. The beautiful part is he knows what he's up against, and he wanted me anyway.

Now we wait.

Hollow win.

It was mechanical. Wooden and resigned.

The envelope came on Thursday evening. Not the red one I was expecting for notes on some changes to the health plan but the dreaded dark silver instead. The request for my company, as if inside might be a million dollars and I am the commodity traded publicly for a song few can sing.

I didn't open it. I just left it by the door and I went upstairs and began to dress. Stockings. Stilettos. One of his dresses. Hair up so he can take it down. No jewelry. None at all. The inside of my brain is jello. Alternating the current of thrill with the dread of knowing it could always be the last trip because I stand as the last living witness to his transformation into a monster. I was there, you see? It's my fault.

I turn around to inspect the seams on my stockings and Ben is in the doorway, holding the envelope.

Deja you, princess.

Deja yourself. You ready?

I'm not invited and you're not going.

What do you mean?

The invitation is for you and Lochlan. He knows, princess. He knows we let him back in. You can't go.

I have to, Ben.

We'll figure out something else.

Something else? We've had a quarter of a century to do that. Nothing works. It just makes everything more difficult if I fight it.

Bridget, I haven't had a quarter century to fight it. Lochlan hasn't tried to do anything.

He created this.

I wave my hands around to indicate my life. Panic is rising like bile now. I feel like I'm choking, drowning. I have already switched into Cole-mode now and there's no going back.

Guilt, Bridget. He feels guilty. And the first minute he thinks you're safe he vanishes. What kind of love is that?

I don't know, Ben. I don't know anything anymore.

Me neither but I know this is wrong and I know I'm not going to let you go.

You new guys are so noble.

A condescending voice from behind Ben in the hallway made us both jump. Timed perfectly to arrive in his little 350z to take me away to the dungeon in the sky as soon as I would have had time to prepare after receiving the envelope had I not been ambushed.

Always wanting to rescue little Bridget. Always pointing out everything that is wrong with her. Giving in to so many of her whims and then acting outraged when she won't stop. When you have enough and she still won't stop.

She stops today. Ben says it so softly, I'm still not a hundred percent sure that's what he said.

You know what happened to the last man who tried to keep me from seeing her, don't you? Or have you holed up with your guitar and your bottle so long you don't remember things quite so clearly anymore, Benny? Do you think he left her on purpose? Anyone can be bought. Anyone. Don't make me have to buy you. I've left you in this position because you're not a threat to me. Don't make me change my mind.

In that split second I made a choice to believe that he was lying. Protect thyself. Oh to hell with it.

I walked over to Caleb. Slowly. Heart thumping so loud my gait is wobbly in those stupid shoes. He smiles at me. Victorious.

Or not.

I slapped him.

Hard.

I came up again, going for more but he grabbed my wrist and squeezed until my bones grated but I didn't cry out because my insides had turned to dust from the doubt creeping back in.

Caleb paid Jake to go and he changed his mind and couldn't live with the guilt.

It all makes sense now. All of it. Every last thing. Every last measure of confusion blown away leaving one final secret. Caleb's.

I waited for him to relax his hold. It took a while. We had a staredown. One that's been twenty-seven years in the making.

There's no statute of limitations on what you did.

There isn't one on Lochlan either. If I go down, so does he, and then you'd be without your fucking Siamese twin. Ben would be wise to encourage you to rat everyone out but at this point they are all so afraid of your head that the status-quo, ticking-time-bomb fragile princess everyone can get a piece of seems like a safer bet, don't you think?

He dropped my wrist and walked out and within the space of a minute I heard the car start up and he drove away.

Bridget 4.0, now with gapless playback.

What the hell have I meant
If this how the day ends, I regret
Close your eyes and dream now
The world so far
your heart sounds alone
and I connect

In all the ways I've dreamed you
I chose a song to reach you
But why it's sad again
Only now I see it

Today is a lipgloss print on a cool windowpane, a squeeze of a hand just a memory as you walk away toward the noise and the light and I remain in the silent dark to wait, arms wrapped around the second hand of the clock in an effort to swing forward to speed it up.

Today is a chocolate sugar cone with a hole in the bottom, summer dripping down the steps and across the patio, smeared into rays of blistering afternoon sun and wishes for an ocean of ice.

Today is a note held by a voice that is oxygen to the ears, and then left to fade into a clash of leads and fills, the memory of a melody so familiar that pause fails to take away the sound and my gratitude swells to bursting.*

Today is a text message to herald the beginning of the trip home in the same late sun, the screech of brakes and the wail of the train whistle through the trees starting a slow count to your arrival at the door, somehow timed perfectly, somehow timed to save.

Today is almost finished.